"Purpose"

What do you call it?

That thing deep within the recess of your mind?

Nameless.

Shapeless.

But it's something.

It's there.

Its always been there.

Loud, wild and radiant in your youth.

Back when it shone through you.

When it colored your entire world.

Before the long years came like a stampede, running it into the ground.

Silencing it.

Locking it away, a prisoner of time.

And for a while you were numb.

But it was never truly silenced.

That thing.

Can you hear it?

Beating against the glass; the window to your soul?

It's muffled cry rising to a thundering roar...

"Freedom," it screams.

Can you hear it?

- m.w.